


honey, take me by the hand and we can sign some papers

by littleblacksubmarine



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Drinking, Fake Marriage, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblacksubmarine/pseuds/littleblacksubmarine
Summary: Sonny and Rafael take a professional trip to Vegas together, stumble across a chapel on the Sunset Strip, and find out just how easily a bad decision can follow a person home.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56
Collections: Barisi Summer Exchange 2020





	honey, take me by the hand and we can sign some papers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rellkelltn87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rellkelltn87/gifts).



The sun was too bright, the morning was too early, and above all else, his head was pounding too much for the phone to be ringing at this hour. Sonny lifted his cheek where it was mashed against the pillow, and immediately wished he hadn't. He groped on the nightstand for his phone, thankfully able to find it without opening his eyes again. His stomach was rolling with nausea, and he pulled the blanket over his head as he answered.

"Dominick Carisi." His voice was hoarse with sleep.

"You want to tell me what the  _ fuck _ I'm looking at?" The sharpness in the voice could only belong to Amanda. At least one person sounded well rested, and Sonny could only assume she'd gotten up early to read over the mountain of phone transcripts she'd dumped a copy of onto Sonny's desk before he had left for the conference. He'd agreed to read through them on the plane in hopes of maybe contributing to a breakthrough in the case even from afar.

"Good morning," he said flatly. "I'm sorry, I haven't gotten all the way through those phone records yet." It was a white lie - he'd barely even glanced at the first page.

Amanda gave a bewildered huff, and he could imagine her furrowed brow even here thousands of miles away in Las Vegas. "I don't give a shit about the records, Carisi" she countered. "I give a shit about  _ your Instagram _ ."

His mind swam with both headache and confusion. "I have an Instagram?"

"Yes - with literally one random dog picture outside of Forlini’s and one blurry ass picture of the canolis your mom made you for your birthday two years ago with the date stamp still on it," Amanda supplied helpfully. "Two stupid photos, up until last night."

"What do you mean?" Sonny asked, wondering why Amanda would call him this early in the morning to ask him about an app that he'd forgotten was buried in what he thought of as the junk folder on his iPhone. He knew Amanda had given him more than a few ribbings about getting on board with social media, though he knew she only used it to stalk LMZ and C-list celebrities like the Baker's Dozen family despite the fact that she'd never admit it.

He could hear Amanda groan from the other end of the line, and his phone buzzed in his hand. He cracked an eye open and peered blurrily at the screen.

It was a screenshot of what he drowsily assumed was an Instagram post. To his horror, it was a slightly blurred, pink cheeked picture of himself, but there was no mistaking what had piqued Amanda's shock. A picture of him and Barba, Sonny's arm thrown around his waist and head nestled in Rafael's neck. And then - their left hands extended toward the camera with matching wings - matching rings on the ring finger. In their right hands, a flute of champagne each. The geotag read  _ Cloud Nine Drive Thru Chapel _ .

"What the  _ fuck _ ?" he said, dropping the phone in surprise before groping to pick it up as he raised himself up in one hand. "What is this?"

"That's what I'm asking you." Now Amanda's voice was teasing, clearly bemused. "'Tied the knot. Hashtag  _ Barbarisi _ .'" There was mirth in her voice, and Sonny knew it came at his expense. "Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, Sonny. Gotta work on your hashtags."

Sonny glanced down at his hand and registered two tattered paper wristbands and a gold band with a small, cheap smattering of rhinestones and had to stifle a punched-out gasp that would've been unbecoming.

"No,  _ no _ !" he groaned. He threw the covers off of him and scrambled to his feet. He was in his underwear below the sheet, and he caught sight of his rumpled reflection. His hair stood up in angles with his massive cowlick untamed by long-absent product. There were still indentations from the sheets lining his face.

There was an official looking document on the dresser in front of the mirror, though it was lined in two rings of what could only be red wine. He crossed the room in two enormous, desperate strides to study what it said. It was unmistakably a marriage license.

"Dominick Michael Carisi Junior and Rafael Nevada Barba," he read out loud, eyes skimming the verbiage that could only mean one thing: a legally binding contract resulting in matrimony. He dropped it to the top of the dresser. His heart was racing almost as intensely as his entire brain was pounding - insistent and unwanted and residual from god only knew how many drinks.

"Wait, wait," Amanda said, clearly fighting down a chuckle off of the tip of his tongue. "What the fuck? Barba's middle name is  _ Nevada _ ? Oh, that's too good."

"That's not the point! Focus!" Sonny blurted, tone more forceful than he would typically indulge in. "Shit,  _ shit _ ," he hissed. "What do I do? I mean, the minute he - "

It was too sadly too late, of course, and there was an insistent hammering on the door that was at once too loud and too ominous for Sonny to bear. He considered hiding in the bathroom but knew it was futile. The knock could only come from one source. His stomach itself already felt like a stone in his abdomen, and the sickened feeling had grown exponentially.

"I have to go." Sonny jabbed the end button on the call, throwing the offending phone to the rumpled duvet cover without any regard to the rudeness of hanging up on someone on the other end. His mother would be appalled at his manners - oh,  _ Christ _ , his  _ mother _ . This was not the time to think of her. With dread, he headed to the door and pulled it open as though it would lead to his own demise.

Naturally, Barba stood on the other side, dark circles ringing his eyes in what could only be the full force of a hangover. Part of Sonny winced in empathy, feeling rode hard and put away wet himself. It suddenly occurred to him that he was nearly naked - nearly naked in the gaze of his  _ husband _ , thank you  _ so  _ much to the convenience of the great state of Nevada.

Without asking permission, Barba stormed inside, shoving the door shut behind him. He hobbled a little, clearly babying a skinned knee for which Sonny had no explanation to match a raw-skinned palm.

"You want to tell me what this is?" he asked, his own ring held accusingly in Sonny's face between thumb and forefinger. "You want to tell me why I woke up to fifteen text messages from  _ Rita Calhoun _ and a wedding ring on my finger?" It was like being yelled at by the football coach that had thundered at Sonny sophomore year when he'd fumbled the ball in a junior varsity game against their rival team. He wilted in shame.

It was truly the worst case scenario - he'd practically had to beg to be allowed to tag along to the weeklong law conference that Barba had grudgingly attended out of sheer obligation. For his own part, Sonny had been thrilled to come: a competent detective but seemingly not-even-close to being a real lawyer yet. He'd even paid his own plane ticket and hotel room, dipping into his savings and trying to play it off as a negligible expense as if he wasn’t desperate to follow Barba here like some pitiful, needy thing.

"I could ask you the same thing," he countered, surprised at the edge in his own voice.

Rafael's eyes narrowed in the way that Sonny had only seen directed at a truly tempestuous perp on the stand. He scoffed as though in disbelief. "So here we are, waking up in Las Vegas - grown men - somehow married like we're living in a goddamned  _ Miley Cyrus _ song, and you have the audacity to tell me you have no idea how this happened?" His eyes flickered over to the drawer, grimacing at the marriage license that had clearly rumpled from being saturated by rich, dark wine. "You aren't even gay," he added dismissively.

For his part, Sonny bristled in irritability at the presumption. "I'm certainly gay enough to know that you were actually making a Katy Perry reference without knowing it," he shot back. "How would you even know?"

"Not the point," Rafael hissed, echoing Sonny's argument to Amanda, gesturing at him with a wild, exasperated hand. He sat down on the chair next to the desk, picking up the marriage license and staring at it as though it was printed with his own obituary. "Do you have any idea how this makes me look - how this makes us look?" It almost seemed that the  _ us _ was added as an afterthought, and Sonny felt a brief, baffling thrill to hear himself included as half of an  _ us _ with  _ Rafael Barba _ .

"I know."

"I mean, I've prosecuted dozen of cases that you've investigated."

"I know." It felt futile to argue, not when Rafael was on a tear.

"There will be eyes all over them now - all over everything!"

"I  _ know _ , Jesus Christ."

Sonny settled onto the bed, feeling the firm, luxe mattress sag slightly underneath him. His head hung low, suddenly all of his energy drained despite the fact that he'd slept like the dead for at least a few hours the night before.

"How could this have happened?" Rafael asked, poring over the wedding license as though there might be some kind of fine print in its elegantly printed script. It was needlessly pretty, the kind of thing that two newlyweds would cherish under decidedly different circumstances than these. Sonny could feel Rafael's eyes raking over him accusation.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Sonny snapped, dragging his hands through the snarl of his hair. "And let me remind you, it takes two people to sign a marriage license."

It was as though he'd gone entirely unheard. 

"It should be illegal to have a drunk person to sign a legally binding contract - let alone two of them," Rafael grumbled, prosecutor mode taking over completely. "Someone should really do something about this." He directed his attention back to Sonny. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Sonny bit his lip, almost dreading picking through the muddled snippets of memory from the previous night's apparent festivities.

"Well, we were at the hotel bar with Rita," he recalled, stomach churning as he remembered her ordering the second round of shots with a wry  _ what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, gentlemen _ , and immediately wished he could go back in time and kick the three of them in the teeth. "She wanted to switch to tequila."

"Of course she did," Rafael groaned. "Sometimes Rita forgets we aren't in undergrad anymore." He paused, a brief beat of affection in his voice before stomping on it immediately, as it was certainly not the time for fondness. "She always could drink grown men under the table - quite the party trick."

It was most certainly not the time for party tricks.

"Remind me to thank her," Sonny said crossly, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Then, I remember going out to the pool."

"Ah yes - the camouflage swim trunks," Rafael groaned. "I'm married to a man who wears  _ camouflage _ ." Horror was heavy on his tongue, and the heavy feeling of judgment made Sonny cringe.

"First of all," Sonny began defensively. "I packed them as an afterthought. I only had the one swimsuit and I figured I might sneak off to the hot tub. I didn't assume you'd join me at a swim up bar - seems rather beneath you, Barba."

As though peeling off a stubborn bandage, Sonny fished for his phone. A half dozen texts had come through - a few more from Amanda, frantic with exclamation points, one from Bella with the same screenshot and six question marks and a champagne bottle emoji, and a missed call from Angela, most likely resulting in a bewildered voicemail in a few minutes. He knew they'd keep trickling in.

"What are you doing?" Rafael asked, immediately suspicious.

"Looking for clues," he said, the instinctive, reptilian detective part of his brain kicking into gear. "If we took one picture, I'm assuming we took more." Rafael rummaged in the pocket of his snobby linen pajamas to do the same, and Sonny wanted to take a moment to scoff over the fact that he likely had a better camera on his phone than Rafael did, at least.

There were dozens more pictures, many of them nothing more than blurred smears of neon light, and it seemed somehow poetic in the part of him that could appreciate such a thing in the moment. He scrolled back to the beginning of the series, content to settle in right at the start of the night's adventure to determine just how he woke up today as a puzzled newlywed.

"Ah, so you only rolled up your khakis and dipped your legs in," he observed, smiling despite himself at a photo of Rafael, flushed with heat and alcohol and holding an oversized tiki drink in a hollowed out pineapple that made him wince, practically able smell the rum rolling off of the picture in waves. " - makes sense why you can judge me for my swim trunks."

"As if anyone on earth couldn't judge you for that Bass Pro Shop travesty," Rafael scoffed, ever-pointed. "I've never seen a drink with that many maraschino cherries." He showed Sonny a picture of himself with a similarly flamboyant drink, beads of water clinging to his bare chest that shone almost translucent in the garish, tacky lighting of the pool bar. 

Sonny flashed a picture of Rita in a tasteful, black one piece lounging by the side of the pool in a dramatic, ultimately unnecessary black sun hat despite the time stamp below the photo reading just after ten PM. She was holding an oversized glass of white wine that probably cost just as much as the extravagant hat. Her head was thrown back in a laugh. For a moment he forgot all of the infuriating times in court that she'd tried to poke holes in weeks or months of fine police work to get some scumbag defendant off scot free.

"Clearly the culprit," Rafael muttered.

"Should we ask her what happened?"

" _ No _ ," Rafael said brusquely. "She's already texted to congratulate me on my surprise nuptials." Of course she had. "Seems like she left before the magic happened." He furrowed his brow, jabbing as his screen to play a video.

" _ Jump in! Jump in! _ " Sonny's voice blared from the small, tinny speakers. " _ Come _ on." He sounded practically petulant as Rita gave a vague objection, and they could both hear a rumbling, disheveled laugh coming from Rafael behind the camera as he took the video.

"Looks like she left soon after that," Rafael explained, squinting down at the screen. "She seems content to leave behind the mess she created." He seemed to be making a mental note to give Rita a piece of his mind later.

Sonny frowned at his own series of pictures, many of them of Rita retreating on a pair of heels that would've sent a lesser woman tumbling into the pool. Next was a graceless selfie of the two of them, Rafael clearly paying no mind to the way that Sonny was clearly soaking the front of his fine dress shirt. He next arrived at a screenshot of a ticket for some garish Vegas show, all colorful lights and tigers that one might argue were clearly being exploited for audiences.

"I think we tried to go to a show," he said excitedly, as if this was some type of clue. He kept scrolling, finding a picture of Rafael on his knees where he'd clearly tripped over a cobblestone. "Ah, but you fell down outside," he added, clearly unable to hide the mirth in his voice before considering this was not the type of thing that Rafael might find entertaining.

"You bought us ice cream to make up for it, I assume," Rafael said with a grimace, showing Sonny a picture of Rafael holding an enormous cone overflowing with something brown and pink and white, a dribble of it clearly running over the backs of his knuckles where it had melted in the arid Las Vegas heat.  _ He looks happy _ , Sonny observed, a moment of gladness thrumming through him before he stuffed it away. "At least that was thoughtful of you." He showed Sonny a picture of himself holding an oversized banana split with a beaming, broad smile.

That explained part of the stomachache, Sonny supposed, but chose to keep that detail to himself. The photo on his  own camera roll showed him with a dab of whipped cream at the tip of his nose, Rafael's thumb in the frame to wipe it away. It looked downright  _ cute _ , something a couple might take on vacation, an overjoyed snapshot yanked straight of someone else's life. He wished he remembered.

He'd most certainly entertained what might happen if he had come along on a trip like this, wishing that the trip might culminate in something more than a reluctant allowance of his mentor's company. He'd thought about what it might look like to see Rafael with his proverbial hair let down, to be allowed into his orbit more than just behind the prosecutor's table.

Next in the camera roll was a smeared photo of Rafael laughing, pushing a preposterously big glass boot of foaming draft beer toward Sonny down a dimly lit bar at what could only be described as a dive.

"How much did we drink last night?" Rafael groaned, wincing as he rubbed at his temples.

"Enough to get married, it looks like," Sonny remarked feebly. Rafael regarded him with a withering stare.

"Obviously," he mused, clearly perturbed. "Christ, here it is," Rafael groaned, showing Sonny a picture of the garish marquee of what was allegedly a wedding chapel. Two clumsily rendered doves held a banner with the name of their place of holy matrimony in what was clearly attempting to be romantic script. "Here's our enabler." The next photo was of an elderly man in thick glasses and red suspenders with his arms thrown around both of their shoulders as they signed the marriage license. Sonny counted himself lucky that they at least hadn't had Elvis an officiant.  _ That _ would've been a bridge too far if there was ever to be a chance he'd be forgiven what was definitely partly his mistake.

The next photo was arguably the worst - or the best, though Sonny would never admit it - the two of them embracing as Rafael placed the gaudy ring on his hand, their bleary gazes locked in what he could almost pretend was genuine. The one that followed of the deal-sealing kiss was mercifully and hopelessly poorly lit to the extent it would never go in a frame on anyone's mantelpiece.

"We were, uh, not feeling any pain," he said meekly.

"Looks that way, doesn't it," Rafael said, albeit rhetorically. "I haven't been out drinking like some fraternity brother - well, ever."

"Old dog, new tricks."

"Watch it," Rafael warned. "I already want a divorce."

It shook a laugh out of Sonny, so caught off guard that it came out with a fluttering edge of desperation.

"Maybe it won't be that bad. Maybe no one will notice." It was a bridge too far, and they both knew it. Rafael shook his head in exasperation. "I only have a few Instagram followers."

"We should be so lucky."

Rafael rose from his feet where he had been leaned against the bureau.

"Where are you going?" Sonny asked, wondering just how Rafael could flee the scene that had unfolded. He knew in his weakened state that it would be useless to try to chase him.

"Brunch. Coming?" He was clearly taking in Sonny's quizzical expression. "I can't figure out what to do without something to soak up all these drinks."

"Right. Of course."

"They won't let you in dressed like that, even if it is Las Vegas." He gestured at Sonny's half hearted pajamas, and it was only in this moment that Sonny blushed, realizing he was practically naked. He wanted to make a move to cover himself, but knew it was ultimately useless. "Meet me downstairs in ten minutes?"

"Sure, sure," he agreed, but Rafael was already halfway out the door.

Sonny took a moment to compose himself, heartbeat still pounding with the shock of waking up as Dominick Barba-Carisi in the eyes of the law. He wondered faintly how long the feeling of regret would linger - too long, of course. If he hadn't pleaded to come along on such a stupid trip, an even stupider mistake wouldn't have happened. For a private, fleeting moment, he supposed he could savor a bad decision - at least for ten minutes. He smiled grimly down at the traitorous, half-forgotten marriage license. 

Perhaps in another life such a thing wouldn't taunt him.

-

Sonny watched a waiter drop off a precariously full carafe of mimosas at the next table over and felt a crashing wave of residual nausea shoot through him. An excited coven of bachelorette party attendees sat beside them, delightedly aflutter, chattering about wedding colors and floral arrangements and embossed invitations. He tried and failed not to be resentful.

Across the table, Rafael studied the menu, perhaps in an effort to avoid making eye contact despite the fact that he was wearing dark aviator sunglasses to hide his fatigue and hangover. As rough as Sonny felt, he at least felt grateful that he'd had more than enough practice with nights of heavy drinking leftover from his college days and a couple of recent nights of dive bars with Amanda. He'd thank her for it if he ever managed to direct the conversation away from a regrettable night in Vegas if he could ever show his face in Manhattan again.

"Can I ask you something?" Sonny blurted before he could stop himself.

Rafael looked up at him warily from where he'd been agonizing over choosing from a half dozen variations of eggs Benedict. "If you must."

"Did we - y'know…" he sputtered, feeling approximately four inches tall.

"Consummate?" Rafael asked, closing the menu with an air of finality.

Sonny felt himself flush down to the tips of his toes at the mere suggestion of it.

"I guess, if you want to call it that?"

"I don't think so, thank God," Rafael mused, taking a sizable drink from his water glass. His tone made an  unexpected pang of hurt thrum in Sonny's veins before he could steel himself not to take it personally.

"Right," he replied lamely. "Thank God for small favors, huh?" He prayed the disappointment behind the statement didn't come through.

The waitress approached, sitting down two unordered mimosas of their own in front of the two of them before either could object. "I hear we have two newlyweds at the table," she said brightly, poised with her notepad for their orders. Both of their heads jerked up.

"How do you know about that?" Sonny exclaimed, voice edging toward a snap.

Rafael cut him off abruptly from any interrogation. "What my husband  _ means  _ to say is, how did you hear about our good news?"

If she had been caught off guard by Sonny's uncharacteristic rudeness, the waitress gave no sign of it. "Mr. Barba-Carisi notified the concierge last night when you all got back from the wedding," she exclaimed, beaming. "Our customer service is our pride and joy." Of  _ course _ it was, god damn it.

"Well, thank you for your hospitality," Rafael said smoothly, smiling up at her. Sonny could almost believe it for a moment. "Could I please have the Southwest eggs Benedict, please?"

Sonny hurriedly ordered a plate of French toast he hoped was big enough to fully sober him up. When the waitress absconded to the kitchen, he looked accusingly at Rafael.

"'Thank you for your hospitality?'" he repeated dumbly.

"As if I'm going to turn down a congratulatory free drink," Rafael said haughtily.

He supposed he couldn't argue with a little hair of the dog in preparation for what would likely be a humiliating conversation he didn't want to have. Before he could either agree or object, the bachelorette herself took notice excitedly.

"Oh gosh," she chattered, leaning across the aisle between the tables. Her accent carried a Southern lilt. She was wearing a pristinely ironed white sash and had a delicate half veil pinned neatly into her waves of curls. "I just couldn't help but overhear - congratulations on the wedding!" Sonny wanted to sink into the floor. "Can we get your next round?"

Ever composed, Rafael returned her broad, impossibly white smile. "Thank you, we appreciate that. It was a spur of the moment." He raised his own glass of mimosa in her direction. She clinked her own glass against it.

Once she'd directed her attention back to her table of girlfriends, Sonny gaped. 

"What are you doing?" Sonny asked, blinking at him in surprise.

"Practicing," Rafael replied, as though this explained everything. Sonny looked at him expectantly. Rafael heaved an annoyed sigh, as though preparing to explain something obvious to a child. "When we get home, there will be a lot of questions from people who matter. I think that we should try to play this off as genuine for a while to avoid suspicion before we divorce."

"Play it off as genuine?" Sonny knew his bafflement was clearly splashed across his face. "Why the hell would we do that?"

Rafael rolled his eyes. "If we tell everyone this was a stupid drunken mistake, we'll both look foolish." He regarded Sonny coolly, taking another sip of his drink. "I certainly don't like to look foolish, do you? Camouflage swim trunks notwithstanding, of course."

He supposed he couldn't argue with that, no matter how badly he wanted to.

"I don't," he agreed. "And they weren't  _ that _ bad."

"If you say so," Rafael said breezily. "Of course, we can tell those who need to be in the know. Use your discretion. I know you must have some."

"That's not a nice thing to say to your husband," Sonny sputtered defensively.

Rafael smiled with only a slight hint of condescension to it. 

"See? You're already getting the hang of it."

-

It was only a matter of time before Rita Calhoun reared her ugly head, knocking innocuously at Rafael's hotel room door later in the afternoon. His hangover had finally seemed to subside, mercifully enough for him to face her. A lesser man would feel more fear.

"If it isn't Mr. Carisi-Barba himself, in the flesh," she mused, a meticulously maintained eyebrow arched in his direction. "Forgive me if I forgot the champagne."

Rafael didn't bat an eye. "That's Mr. Barba-Carisi to you."

Rita regarded him with a coy smile. "It looks like I left too early and missed the celebration. What a shame. It's been years since I've been a maid of honor."

"I suppose I ought to thank you and Laphroiag for the mess on my hands," he said, standing aside to allow her into the room.

"Don't flatter yourself, Rafael - it was the Malibu rum that did you in." He groaned as though in disbelief that he would ever voluntarily drink anything that tasted like suntan lotion. "But yes - quite the mess, isn't it?" Rita asked, grinning despite herself, and he wasn't sure if he ought to dress her down or laugh along with her.

In any case, he certainly didn't need to be reminded of just what trouble could come from an impromptu bar crawl when he was supposed to be at a dignified professional conference. He'd made the mistake of adding on a few days for the weekend after the conference had concluded - it had been so long since he'd had a reprieve from New York. He loved the city but at times it felt stifling in its expectations. He hadn't expected for Carisi to agree to stay, not when he had already invited himself along.

Still, despite himself, he couldn’t say he entirely minded having Carisi around. It was nice to have someone along who had something in common with him. He and Rita had what felt like a lifetime between the two of them, but they'd certainly butted heads a time or two hundred.

Rita was already rifling through the minibar, producing a bottle of sparkling mineral water - the most expensive nonalcoholic option, naturally. She pulled up the desk chair, sitting across from him.

"So what do we do now? I know the most fabulous divorce attorney - worked with Jennifer Lopez on her second ex-husband. You'll love her. Great taste in shoes, too."

"Not yet," Rafael said, holding up a hand to cut her off. "It's too soon to be thinking about that kind of thing just yet."

"Too soon? Rafi, it's too  _ late _ not to start reaching out and considering the options." Rita was proactive if nothing else, and wholly unromantic as ever. She looked around for a bottle opener, and upon finding none, made short work of the cap of the water by knocking it off handily on the edge of the desk. In another life, he might have loved her.

"I've already considered the optics," he said simply. Rafael stood, fishing into his briefcase for a half-empty bottle of ever-faithful ibuprofen. "If we jump there too soon, it'll look even worse. We're just going to roll with it for right now."

"Did Carisi put you up to this?" Rita asked. Despite his own displeasure with last night's turn of events, Rafael felt himself bristle slightly in Sonny's defense.

"It was a mutual decision," he explained, hoping that that would be the end of things. "We agreed -  _ mutually _ \- that there would be fewer questions if we decided to omit a few details." It was a cop out, and they both knew it.

"If you decided to lie," Rita corrected unhelpfully. She arranged her already-perfect hair where it hung in a sleek curtain down her back. He envied her composure, here and in all things. Rita had always had a way of making him feel on edge - working hard to stay on his toes, to be the best version of himself in the hope of standing alongside her instead of merely in her shadow. He'd been grappling with it since Harvard. "Well, you know your secret is safe with me."

Despite all of his annoyances with Rita over the years, he knew it was meant truthfully, and found himself accordingly grateful.

Before he could respond, there came another knock at the door. This knock was tentative, a sharp contrast to Rita's confident one earlier. They glanced at each other before Rita nodded in the direction of the door as though giving him unneeded permission to answer. He rose to his feet and crossed the room.

Predictably, Sonny stood on the other side, already looking sheepish in a manner that only intensified when he saw Rita over Rafael's shoulder.

"I, uh - am I interrupting something?" he asked hesitantly.

"No, no. Of course not," Rafael assured him, standing aside so he could enter the room. "Rita and I were just talking about last night."

"Ah," Sonny said. He was clearly spooked and unsure whether or not he was walking into a lions’ den. His cheeks were piqued with a blush that made fondness briefly momentarily beat through Rafael.

"This will be a good chance for you two to get your story straight," Rita said helpfully. "People will ask, as we've already established."

Rafael nodded decisively. "She's right." He looked down to Sonny's hands where he held an embossed periwinkle envelope as though it were seconds from exploding. "What is  _ that _ ?"

"Our wedding photo," Sonny explained, holding out to him at an arm's length. "I found it halfway under the bed when I was looking for my shoes." Rafael inwardly rolled his eyes at Sonny's disorganization but supposed he shouldn't be surprised. "I don’t know if you want to open it, but - "

He didn't have time to finish his statement before Rafael snatched away and picked open the cheap, burgundy foil sticker that had clearly been holding it closed before Sonny had opened it when the envelope had resurfaced. He slid the picture free and stared down at it.

The two of them were locked in an embrace in front of a gaudy floral archway, kissing  _ on the mouth _ with what appeared to be genuine affection and almost  _ desire _ . A gilded cage sat beside the archway with a single white dove housed inside. It was simultaneously somewhat better and so, so much worse than he had expected. At least the dove had probably been witness to worse.

Rita stood to look down at the picture along with Rafael.

"Oh my," she said, somehow both gawking and tactful. "Well, you can just show the picture and it will put any questions about this being genuine to bed, can't you?"

Sonny blushed an even deeper shade of scarlet and heaved a sigh of relief as Rafael stuffed the picture back into the envelope and deposited it unceremoniously onto the desk. Perhaps it was best out of sight, out of mind for the time being, and Rafael hoped faintly that no one would ask to see it when they returned home.

Still, if the photo was any type of evidence, surely there had been some type of  _ feelings _ there last night, even if they were amplified by the drinks - so, so many drinks, he reminded himself with a cringe - to the point of explosion and catastrophe. He allowed himself a sparse moment to wrack his brain to see if he could even slightly recall the way Sonny's mouth would feel and taste against his own, if for no other reason than to remind himself that this was, unfortunately, not a dream.

"So," Rita continued, sitting back down in her chair and clearly ready to assume the role of interrogator. "How did you two lovebirds end up tying the knot so unexpectedly?"

"Well, we'd had a couple of drinks, and one thing led to another and - " Sonny began.

"No, no,  _ no _ ," Rita objected immediately, swigging her mineral water. She abandoned it on the desk. "Don't even think about it, Detective." Rafael was glad Sonny had been the one to say it first and to subsequently be shut down in no uncertain terms, if for the sole reason that it wasn't happening to him instead. "Try again."

"We had been….trying to keep things private for a long time now?" he tried, looking helplessly toward Rafael for approval as if he might be able to protect him from a wrecking ball in heels. Rita nodded encouragingly, hands clasped together, but Rafael couldn't stamp out the uneasy feeling that she might be preparing to hand Sonny just enough rope with which to hang himself. " - and then you just find yourself in a romantic place and can't help yourself?"

It was slightly agonizing to watch Sonny flounder. " - you find yourself in a romantic place with the person you love," Rafael added helpfully. The words felt clunky in his mouth, but seemed to land with desired intent. "And then all of a sudden you think, why should I have to hide?"

"Why should  _ we _ have to hide," Rita corrected. "You two are close to setting off my gag reflex over here." They both stared at her, and she rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "Keep going."

Sonny cleared his throat. "We've - it's only been six months," he began carefully. " - but when you know, you know." It was a cliché, but Rafael supposed that people loved clichés when it came to love stories. "And I guess we both realized we knew."

"That's very romantic, Detective," Rita said, and it almost sounded like a genuine compliment had both Sonny and Rafael not known they were looking into the eyes of a wolf in tailored enough clothing not to belong to a sheep. She paused. "It would help if anyone who might wonder could see you kiss," she supplied constructively with the glee of a little girl smashing the faces of two GI Joes together.

"What?" Sonny blurted.

"No," Rafael insisted, sitting up straighter as panic screeched through him, but he couldn't hold back the thought that perhaps it might not be so bad - for the mere sake of authenticity, of course. "We'll just say we're opposed to public displays of affection."

Rita rolled her eyes. "I saw the Instagram post," she said, as though it was the simplest explanation in the world, and Rafael supposed it was. "The two I saw in that picture were most definitely not opposed to public displays of affection." She folded her arms expectantly, watching the two of them regard each other with a wariness that felt abruptly invaded by her presence.

It had been a long time since the last time Rafael had been  _ in the game _ , as Rita had unmercifully reminded him far too many times as she regaled him with tales of her own inner circle. Still, it hadn't been entirely too long that he'd been unable to ignore the way that Sonny looked at him over stacks of evidence - he was out of the game, not unfamiliar to it entirely. His stomach twisted.

"People will ask," Rafael reminded, and the three of them knew it was true. He was thankful for the years he'd found himself in the trenches, including the early ones where he'd built up his poker face by splashing water into it in a courthouse bathroom or ten.

"Right," Sonny said, tone fading. Rafael almost pitied him, but it was put to rest by the part that pitied himself as well. He could see Sonny trying to steady himself.

Rafael stood, planting his feet firmly in front of Sonny in a way he hoped looked confident but not defiant - there was no romance in defiance, he reminded himself distantly.

For his part, Sonny laid a gentle, almost fearful hand at Rafael's waist, the tips of his fingers dipping just barely between his belt and pants, pulling him closer. The anticipation of the moment suddenly felt fraught, and terrifying, and exciting. Rafael wondered when he'd last felt so unsure of himself. Sonny pulled him still closer as though almost in experimentation.

"Right," Sonny repeated, and to his credit, he leaned inward and down, brushing their lips together. As though sensing that this would not be enough to satisfy the curiosity of Rita Calhoun, let alone the entire free world, he tugged Rafael in, kissing him harder.

His lips were slightly chapped from the Nevada summer heat, the clear mark of a man who didn't know quite enough that he ought not to skimp on moisturizer. It had been a long time since Rafael had been kissed - too long, he'd be the first to admit - and he tried not to sigh into the mouth against his own. He leaned into the unfamiliar sensation, letting Sonny's lips move on his, trying not to sigh in a desperation he hadn't known was there. His fingertips tingled in a way that his rational mind might find undignified.

The moment seemed to still, even more so with the way that Sonny's tongue barely touched his bottom lip as if in the fleeting hope of coaxing them wider open. His own hand was at Sonny's hip tentatively, somehow giving himself the allowance of being kissed. The sensation itself combined with the dimmed recognition of who it was coming from felt slightly electric, and he found himself fighting to hide a slight, humiliating shudder. He wondered if Sonny felt it too.

"Good," Rita finally said encouragingly. The ephemeral moment snapped like a single cut thread, and Rafael inched away until he was no longer touching. "Just do that in front of IAB now." There was a delighted edge in her voice that screamed her intention of running straight to the appellate court if things weren't convincing enough.

The mention of a governing body had clearly throttled any notion of romance straight out of Sonny, and Rafael tried not to resent the way he lightly dabbed at the moisture at his lips. Sonny shrank back into himself, clearly embarrassed, and Rafael felt a pang of empathy surge through himself. If he were so inclined, he imagined himself as a plaintiff in a suit of any of the alcohol companies who were to blame for the previous night.

"It'll do," he said, hoping the slight rasp in his voice would go unnoticed.

-

Sonny sat beside Rafael in the cramped space of an economy class plane seat, wishing desperately Rafael had lived up to his own reputation and booked first class to spare both of them the agony of a terse flight with no connectors. He tried to look busy with the neat manila folder of phone records Amanda had shoved in his hands.

"It's not too late. You can always back out of this," he found himself saying, guilt thrumming quietly inside of him. "We didn't - you can annul this," he offered.

"And look like a man who can't hold his liquor?" Rafael asked, aloof and poring through the pages of the Skymall catalog. "I'm hardly that irresponsible." Sonny could see Rafael's eyes pointed grimly down at the printed image of a robotic dog meant to keep a living one company while the owner slaved away long hours at work. He always made it look so easy, seeming to pay no mind to the fact that John  _ fucking _ Buchanan would be in line behind Rita filing for appeals on the cases of convictions they'd obtained against his clients.

Sonny swallowed the lump in his throat and wondered if he ought to order more than ginger ale for the flight home.

-

Predictably, Rafael had booked a cab home from La Guardia, whereas Sonny had practically begged Angela to pick him up from the airport to avoid the fees. He'd promised her a pan of lasagna for her family, silently resenting the fact that he was the only one who made it as well as their ma had throughout the years.

When they'd landed on the ground, he felt the prickling of dread that had beat within him coming to a fever pitch. It had been building since he'd seen the first traces of the skyline approaching. He hoped his arrival home might not lay bare the fact that he felt he was coming there with his proverbial tail between his legs.

Angela waited for him at the gate, one hand expectantly on her hip, and Sonny grudgingly approached, already tired of a couple of days of being grilled over the phone by every strong woman in his life. Typically, he would have expected her to wait in her car at the curbside pickup, resting the task of picking him up at the airport, but these were decidedly different circumstances.

"Hey Angie," he said, almost meekly. "Thanks for coming to pick me up."

Despite the slightly judgmental look initially in her eyes, Angela broke into a broad smile. "And miss out on my baby brother's return home from his wholly unexpected wedding?" Her voice was pointed but not unkind. "Not a chance. Where is the lucky groom?"

Rafael had hung back, eyes narrowed at his phone.

Sonny wondered for a moment if he'd told his mother or been unable to bear it yet. He'd had a quick, rapid fire conversation with his own the night before, surprised at her restraint in waiting a few hours before launching into the inevitable interrogation. It felt wrong to lie to her, and wholly unnecessary, but the idea of ambushing her with boldfaced honesty was too much to bear. He'd never been a good liar, and was only slightly better as a secret keeper.

"He's right there," Sonny said loudly, catching Rafael's attention and waving him over. Impulsively, he looped his arm into Rafael's elbow and dragged him over and into their conversation as though desperately flailing for backup. "Honey, this is my sister Angela." The endearment felt foreign and baffling in his mouth.

"Pleased to meet you," Rafael said steadily, reaching out to shake her hand. However, true to Carisi form, Angela waved the hand off and pulled him into a tight, abrupt hug. He could see Rafael startle but was grateful Angela had overwhelmed more than enough people not to take momentary - or prolonged - awkwardness personally. Carisis had that way about them. He'd heard it a million times.

"I'm  _ thrilled _ to meet you," she gushed buoyantly. "Finally, someone to make an honest man out of our Sonny." He felt a slight pang of hurt at the genuineness in Angela's voice but pushed it as far down as it would go.

"Someone had to," Rafael agreed amenably.

"We've all been dying to meet you since we got the news." Angela's attention was solely fixated on Rafael now, and Sonny felt himself pushed to the sidelines only to watch the interaction with a vague sense of abandonment. "Of course, we'd heard a lot about you anyway - the famous Barba-the-district-attorney from Harvard. Sonny has been bragging on you for months since you let him tag along in court."

Sonny felt an embarrassed flush pour over him. "Angie," he protested, though it was certainly true.

"Just an assistant district attorney," Rafael corrected with an uncharacteristic faux humility. "It's been no hardship." His voice was warm and amiable. "I hate to excuse myself, but I have a cab waiting."

"A cab?" Angela exclaimed at the top of her voice. "No, no. You're family now. We don't let family take a cab!" Suddenly there was wariness on Rafael's face, though Sonny imagined only he could see it. "Don't be silly. I'll take you - save you a few bucks. Besides, Sonny will probably just want to get a few things from home so he can head over to your place."

" _ Angie _ ," Sonny said, sharpness creeping into his voice but falling on deaf ears.

"Of course," Rafael agreed distantly. "Silly of me." There was no getting out of it now. Sonny had enough decades of experience to know that no Carisi woman had ever taken  _ no _ for an answer, whether it was to another plate of manicotti or when roping someone into taking the kids  _ just for an hour, Sonny - I'm losing my fucking mind over here! _

Here was how Sonny found himself shoehorned into the backseat of Angela's sensibly sized SUV despite the fact that he was the tallest of the three. He inwardly winced as Angela grilled Rafael of all the nitty gritty details that IAB was sure to ask later - far more scrutiny that even Rita Calhoun herself could ever dream of. He supposed he ought to be grateful for the practice.

" - and just how much liquid courage did Dominick here need?" Angela asked, lightly and almost musically. He supposed it was useless to try to correct her at this point, and instead tried to brace himself for the inevitable.

"Just a bit," Rafael said with a laugh, and Sonny found himself puzzled by just how comfortable he seemed. For a moment he imagined what it would be like if the union had been borne out of  _ actual _ circumstances. "You know how he can be." The familiarity of it made him ache.

"Do I," Angela mused rhetorically. Blessedly, they arrived outside of Sonny's modest walk up, and he inwardly winced at the idea of Rafael seeing where he lived. "I'll just wait until you guys have gotten all of his stuff together."

She was true to her word, putting the car in park with expectation. Rafael wordlessly followed him into the building. Sonny made quick work of the stairs, quietly mortified until he was in the apartment with Rafael shut inside with him.

He turned expectantly to Rafael, who finally appeared to have his guard down long enough to take a gathering breath.

"I can come back after she drops us off," Sonny told him apologetically. Rafael didn't respond, instead turning his attention to the shelves of pictures just inside the door: Sonny at his police academy graduation, him with Jesse balanced contentedly at his hip with frosting smeared across her face, Sonny and his sisters as children, and with his trophy from when he'd bronze medaled in cross country at state.

"I should've had you pegged as the sentimental décor type," Rafael said quietly, handily ignoring the statement. "Just grab some stuff. It's getting late. I'll let you sleep on the sofa."

Here, again, there was little space for argument. Sonny adjourned to the bedroom, hastily shoveling some clean clothes into a duffel bag he'd last used to go camping upstate with Angela and her family. He paid careful attention to arranging tomorrow's suit in a garment bag, already dreading the idea of returning to work tomorrow for a multitude of reasons. Lastly, he stopped in the bathroom, gracelessly throwing assorted toiletries into the bag on top of the clothes. He assumed Rafael would judge him for his simple drugstore routine almost as much as he had the camouflage bathing suit.

When he returned to the entryway, Rafael hadn't moved except to turn his attention again to his phone.

"What's the damage?" he asked, careful not to let a fearful tone creep into his voice.

"It's calmed down a bit. Luckily only one of us has social media," Rafael told him pointedly.

"It would've come out eventually," Sonny muttered, but he knew it wasn't said quietly enough to go unheard.

"Sure," Rafael said, but it was clear he didn't believe the platitude. "Liv wants to see us before the squad briefing." Sonny groaned. Of  _ course _ she did - the lieutenant had never been one to let a sleeping dog lie, and he could already tell there was no way he could keep his guilty conscience off of his face in front of her. He'd certainly never expected the day where unfailing honesty might come as a curse. Rafael could clearly see his panic. "I think in this case honesty might be the best policy."

"Yep," Sonny agreed, even if there was no other apparent choice.

The ride to Rafael's was thankfully relatively uneventful, save for Sonny's quiet nervousness. Angela could likely pick up on it but had the tact not to remark on it. Perhaps he'd been selling her short.

When they arrived in front of the fine brownstone, she stuck her hand out, grasping him by the wrist.

"I'm happy for you, Sonny," she told him earnestly. "Maybe it wasn't quite fairytale circumstances, but this is a good thing."

Sonny feigned a smile he hoped didn't look pinched. He assumed it would be in poor taste to point out that at least a dove had been present.

"Thanks Ange," he told him, though he wasn't quite sure she knew just what he was thanking her for.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she said with a wink that made his stomach twist uncomfortably. She waved at Rafael over Sonny's shortly. "Lovely to meet you!"

"The pleasure is all mine," Rafael told her. "Help me with my bag, dear?" Sonny narrowed his eyes, glad that his back was now to Angela. He grudgingly took hold of the handle of Rafael's oversized suitcase - how many outfits did one man need, exactly?

The space of Rafael's home was quiet, tasteful, and understated. Sonny figured he ought to have expected nothing less. He dropped the suitcase to the floor with an overstated thud.

They looked at one another expectantly.

"Wine?" Rafael asked, almost as though nothing were amiss in a way that frustrated Sonny. Sonny nodded mutely, feeling small in a living room that far outstriped his own. "You don't have to stay all the time." It was clearly meant as a reassurance, though Sonny kicked himself for not having contemplated the logistics before this. Rafael adjourned to the kitchen, rooting in the fridge for an already chilled bottle of white wine - light enough not to feel stifling and heavy in the summer heat, even though Sonny knew that Rafael preferred a robust, dry red.

"Maybe we can stay over at my place," Sonny joked half heartedly. Rafael regarded him with a tight, reserved smile.

" _ Your _ sofa didn't look terribly comfortable, if it's all the same to you." And it was true - a vaguely lumpy thing he'd inherited when his parents had decided to upgrade in the den downstairs.  _ There _ was the high maintenance man he'd come to expect, a direct contrast to the ease Rafael had seemed to exude since that fateful night in the Nevada desert. He slid a precariously full wine glass across the counter to Sonny.

"Can I ask you a question?" Sonny asked, knowing he'd hate himself if he didn't.

"I suppose," Rafael mused.

"How are you so calm about this?"

Rafael took a delicate, practiced sip. "I'm certainly not," he admitted, and it relieved Sonny to see a smidge of vulnerability in the armor. "I guess I just figure that there are worse people I could wake up drunkenly married to - at least a few of them."

Sonny rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter me, counselor."

The drink Rafael took this time was larger, perhaps betraying his nerves, if Sonny allowed himself to read too much into the mechanics of drinking. "Don't flatter yourself, detective," he countered smoothly. He paused. "You know, you're more competent than people give you credit for." It was the most esteemed compliment Rafael had ever given him, and he found himself with the juvenile urge to swoon that he hoped didn’t reveal itself easily on his face. "We got ourselves into this mess together, and I'm mildly confident we'll figure it out." 

“I can settle for  _ mildly _ ,” Sonny supposed. He paused, taking a sip of his own wine, and they sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence for a moment. “And I was thinking about how I’m taking the Bar in a couple months,” he added, knowing it might come off as unrelated. 

“I didn’t know that,” Rafael said, mildly curious as he leafed through the stack of mail he’d missed during the week away. 

“August 31st. You hadn’t asked,” Sonny pointed out, hoping not to sound petulant. “But I was thinking - when I pass it, we can celebrate with a nice, fat divorce.” 

The laugh it shook out of Rafael was warm, rich, and unexpected, a beautiful sound that made him shiver a little. 

“A celebration for the ages. How romantic.” Rafael regarded him with a look that seemed almost fond for a few, fraught seconds before he turned his attention back to the IKEA catalog that had come earlier in the week as though a sale on nesting tables suddenly held all the interest in the world and Sonny with none of it. “That sounds like a deal. Your foot will be halfway out the door at SVU by then anyway.”

It was strange to hear Rafael speak of it in that way, even though they’d had the conversation before. Sonny felt slightly guilty to imagine himself leaving despite the fact that eventually getting off of the streets and into the courtroom had been the plan all along. He loved the work he did and the team he did it alongside, but often times this was not enough to balance out the sleepless nights or the nightmares he sometimes woke up from, or even the way his ma worried about him burning the candle at both ends and never felt shy about speaking on. 

“Right. It’s a deal then. We’ll have a professional summer fling,” he joked meekly. 

“Seems like it’s getting serious,” Rafael agreed, leaning in as though inviting discourse with a co-conspirator. He finished the rest of his wine and plugged the bottle with a silicone stopper before placing it back in the refrigerator. “I’m going to get ready for bed. I’m exhausted.” 

“Sounds like a good idea,” Sonny agreed, sagging for a moment under the fact that as soon as Rafael brought his attention to the idea of  _ tiredness _ , every molecule of energy seemed to have left his body. “Couch?” he asked, but Rafael was already pulling two oversized pillows and an extra blanket out of the hall closet and arranging them on the sofa. It looked expensive and plush, and Sonny supposed there would be worse places to sleep. 

“Get some sleep,” Rafael urged, stretching his own limbs above his head. In another life, Sonny allowed himself the vain, hopeful dream that Rafael might take him to bed with him, to allow him to stretch out next to him, to fall asleep with Rafael’s head on his shoulder and wake up the next morning to start the process all over again. “I’ll make you some coffee in the morning.”

Soon, he was left alone in the darkness of the living room, left simply to his thoughts while in his pajamas in  _ Rafael Barba’s living room _ . Life had felt so normal a week ago today, where he had no idea what madness lay out on the Sunset Strip, and had no idea of the limits of his own irresponsibility. 

He tossed and turned a bit on the couch, as it was just on the brink of too comfortable to be trusted. Sonny fretted for a while that he would spend the night restlessly and sleeplessly, but soon the fatigue of the weekend settled deep into his bones, and he faded off to sleep with the smell of Rafael’s laundry soap at the edges of his senses. 

-

Upon their arrival in the squad room, Fin clapped a heavy hand down on Sonny’s shoulder, shaking him harder than Sonny was expecting for seven thirty in the morning. He leaned in close to his ear but did nothing to change the volume of his voice. 

“Nice, man, nice,” he praised, still not loosening his grip. “Congratulations. I was surprised when Rollins told me, but then the more I thought about it, I thought, nah, probably should’ve expected it.” 

Sonny raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? That makes one of us I guess.”

Fin rolled his eyes, picking up his coffee and settling back against the edge of the table. His smile remained. “Maybe you were just too ‘in it’ to notice, but don’t think that none of the rest of us noticed you following Barba around for months like a shadow. I’ve been in the game too long not to notice the way that you looked at it - and let’s not even get into the way he looked at  _ you _ .”

Sonny felt his nerves flutter with interest, but before he could interrogate Fin for more details, Liv and Amanda had entered the room with Rafael at their heels. 

“I trust we all had a good weekend,” she said, clearly playing it as cool as only the unflappable Olivia Benson could be capable of. “ - but despite how good of a weekend we all seem to have had, we still haven’t made much headway in the Hudson U swim team case, so if it’s all the same to everyone, I think that should be the focus this morning, shouldn’t it?” It was clearly not meant to be a suggestion, and Sonny merely nodded mutely. 

“Jesus, Liv - how about a little romance?” Fin muttered, making Amanda snort quietly despite the fact that she knew just exactly how little a role that  _ romance  _ had actually played in the events of the weekend. Liv shot him a look and he provided no further commentary as though he’d been scolded by a middle school teacher. 

The next hour was spent combing through evidence in a case that didn’t seem particularly groundbreaking or interesting, but somehow hadn’t yielded any witnesses ready to compromise their swim scholarships by shedding any light on the misdoings of their coach. It would be another long week of trying to lean on the guys after they tried to sneak out of the locker room after practice, or to catch their girlfriends on their way into the library. There was always something that felt tedious about trying to chase down rogue college kids. He’d never been one to chase after the popular kids and he certainly didn’t plan on allowing himself to feel rejected by it now. 

Across the table, his eyes met Rafael’s in a way that might be mistaken for affection - the look of a man who could barely keep his eyes off of his  _ husband  _ even in the workplace - but he could tell they were both dreading their inevitable summons into the Lieutenant’s office. It felt akin to being summoned into the principal’s office for a stern lecture - or worse. Dread was heavy in his stomach, and Rafael didn’t look much more optimistic. Sonny quickly looked away, preparing himself for the worst. 

-

Rafael followed Olivia to the office, and Sonny plodded alongside him as though he was being led to the gallows. Rafael supposed he wasn’t excited to be having the conversation with her, but at least he wasn’t going to be dragged onto the carpet alone. Perhaps Carisi would draw more of her ire, as he was arguably her direct subordinate. A small part of him felt caught in the middle between the two and somehow responsible for any punishment Sonny might receive. 

When the door closed behind them, Olivia settled behind her desk, looking somehow both authoritative and gracious at once. She rested her elbows on the desk, steepling her fingers and regarding the two of them with scrutiny over the top of her glasses. She took in a deep breath. 

“Some people might say this looks bad,” she said slowly, and Rafael supposed this was a generous way to begin the conversation. “I would tend to fall into that camp. This was not what I had in mind when I told my detective he could join you for a  _ learning experience _ , Barba.” Rafael raised an eyebrow, not expecting to be the one called on the carpet first. 

“I don’t think this is what any of us had in mind when we had that conversation,” he said, aiming for casual but fearing he might come off as defensive. “ - and I think we can all agree that this is less than ideal.”

“Less than ideal,” Olivia echoed, her mouth a thin smile upon hearing what they could also all agree was the opening note of a paltry excuse. “Yes, I’d say it’s  _ less than ideal _ that you and Carisi get drunkenly married in Vegas and came home now expecting to pick up where you left off, prosecuting cases that he’s investigating, let alone the scores of them that you’ve already worked together on. You’re lucky that IAB trusts your judgment, Rafael.”

_ They shouldn’t, apparently, _ Rafael thought grimly, wondering exactly when he’d become the kind of man who drank massive tropical drinks and bought tickets to tiger shows and got married with a fucking dove in a golden cage present nearby. That was the type of man whose judgment arguably should be questioned. If he were a suspect in a case, Rafael would have torn that man to shreds on the stand and left his character questioned at best and assassinated at worst. 

“My understanding is that right now there are bigger fish to fry in the NYPD than a quickie wedding, but let me perfectly clear on this,” she said, certainly not to be challenged, and suddenly Rafael recognized the tone in her voice as one that might be directed at Noah on a particularly trying day. “If at any point this becomes a problem when working a case, or IAB even looks in this direction with a raised eyebrow, I will not hesitate to be the one who sets the boundary - whatever that looks like.” 

“Of course,” Sonny said, impressively able to somehow avoid faltering under her stern gaze. “This is - this is all temporary. It’s stupid, yeah, but - temporary.” He looked expectantly toward Rafael. “Isn’t that right, Counselor?” It was certainly a situation Rafael had never expected to find himself in, but at least he supposed that he wouldn’t have to necessarily find himself in it alone. 

“Stupid, but temporary,” Rafael confirmed. “ - and we’re keeping this on a strictly need-to-know basis.”

Olivia nodded tersely. “I think that’s for the best, gentlemen.” It was uncomfortable to come under her microscope, and Rafael reminded himself that he would likely leave the room and still be considered a friend. There was a long pause. “Carisi, Rollins is dying to hear your thoughts on those text records.” Rafael was grateful that he could vouch for the fact that he’d seen Sonny looking through at least the first ten pages of the records over the coffee and toast Rafael had forced upon him this morning before coming to the precinct. 

Sonny bobbed his head, looking all too eager to leave the uncharacteristically oppressive confines of the office. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said, opting for deference. “You won’t be sorry.” Olivia waved her hand dismissively in his direction, but smiled at him despite her still-present air of disapproval. He departed quickly, leaving Rafael alone to face her. 

She heaved a relieved sigh, perhaps feeling more comfortable letting her hair down to lay into Rafael a little more to save Sonny the brunt of the punishment. 

“You know that I respect you,” she said, in a way that felt ominous. Rafael sighed himself, but there was less relief in the noise he made. “And I respect Carisi, and I know that despite how much you might not want to let on,  _ you _ certainly respect Carisi too.” Rafael didn’t make any effort to correct her, and he supposed it was true - Carisi deserved respect, but Rafael knew it wasn’t always handed to him readily. Not with his thick accent and off the rack suits, and the way he obsessed over his stupid Apple watch and used Suave hair product and the way that he smiled so hard that his entire face lit up and had to hurt when - 

The tangential train of thought screeched to a halt when Rafael suddenly found himself recognizing that there was genuine affection in it. He felt a slight heat creeping into his cheeks and counted himself lucky that Olivia didn’t remark on it if she noticed at all. He certainly couldn’t argue with anyone who would tell him that Sonny was handsome, and bright, and  _ alive _ . He’d seen it himself, enjoyed Sonny being near to him, even when he’d pretended to be annoyed by having Sonny enter into his orbit. 

“That’s what I thought,” Olivia said simply, taking in Rafael’s silence and accurately interpreting it. “ - and it shouldn’t be lost on you that we can all read into the dynamics.” 

Rafael bristled. “What does that mean?”

Olivia laughed, a sound that always made him beam in return even when the situation was decidedly less than amusing - situations like the one at hand. “Rafi, we’re a elite squad of detectives - we have to pick up on this type of thing quickly.” Rafael didn’t respond, knowing that it was useless to argue with Olivia. She was perceptive as ever - almost ruthlessly so, and it was what made her amazing. 

“I didn’t mean to sell you short,” he agreed with a small grin. 

She took a deep breath and then raised a hand, palm up, as though not quite sure what to say and hoping not to overstep the fine line of professional boundary versus concerned third party. 

“This is a bad situation,” she repeated. “Don’t make it any worse by hurting each other, yeah?” 

“Of course not. We’re both adults,” Rafael said. If only it would be that simple. 

-

The weeks trickled by slowly, and Rafael and Sonny tried to maintain a delicate balance between the air of intimacy and commitment one might expect from newlyweds with the physical and emotional distance one might expect from a reluctant couple - of sorts - merely going through the motions. They joined each other on a handful of nights out with the squad, Sonny tentatively laying a hand on top of Rafael’s on the tabletop for the simple purpose of keeping up appearances. Sonny tended to thumb absently at the garish wedding band, the one that Rafael was forgetting more and more often to take off when he was alone.

_ We’re keeping our two apartments until the lease on Sonny’s runs out _ , they would explain, hiding the fact that they spent half of the week apart and the other smaller half with Sonny strictly curled on the sofa in Rafael’s living room just to keep up appearances.  _ We’re waiting to legally change our last names until Sonny passes the Bar; he’s so focused and caught up right now that we’ll save the headache until later.  _ And finally,  _ Sonny will meet my mother when her health is better. _

This lie in particular brought Rafael the most guilt, a constant reminder that his mother played tennis twice a week at the senior center and hadn’t gone a night with a lone heart-healthy glass of red wine since 1987. 

Rafael and his mother were more than comfortable at a casual distance, perhaps borne out of the years he’d spent away at Harvard. She was an intensely private, determined woman, and she was all too aware that her son had grown into a man of a similar constitution. They respected each other’s space but talked regularly on the phone - he owed it to her to check in with her throughout the week, to make sure her needs were more than met and she wanted for nothing. 

Conversely, Sonny had hauled him all the way out to Staten Island a mere two weeks into their  _ whirlwind romance _ , as Sonny had taken to calling it. While he’d initially been skittish about the idea of faking the genuineness of the marriage, there were times when he appeared downright comfortable with the arrangement, like he’d come around to the idea more easily than expected. Rafael wasn’t sure if he ought to consider himself lucky or tragically unfortunate. 

Their dinner at Sonny’s mother and father’s house had been chaotic, loud, and uniquely entertaining. Sonny’s mother was a kind, doting woman with a half apron only a little smeared in marinara sauce and a raucous laugh to match the nature of her family. Sonny’s father was more reserved - a retired career Marine who surprisingly accepted his son for every part of him and thought that he hung the moon. The rest of the family was a swirling crowd of sisters, in laws, and cousins who handily beat him at bridge and let the gin and tonics flow until well into the night. 

A dinner with the Carisis was markedly different than one with Rafael, his mother, and his  _ abuelita _ , and he was surprised that it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as he’d allowed himself to dread. 

Still, two months into the dance, Rafael’s mother had finally grown impatient with the wait to meet her son’s husband, and summoned the two of them to her apartment for dinner. She’d grown lonely since his grandmother had passed away, their family dwindling down merely to the two of them, though he knew that she was far too prideful to admit it. She’d bribed him with promises of huevos rancheros, even though he hadn’t had the heart to assure her that they’d most certainly have agreed to come anyway. 

Sonny himself wouldn’t have admitted that he was nervous, that he was fearful of the idea of being pinned under the microscope for the scrutiny of Rafael’s mother. It was obvious in the way he agonized in the wine section trying to find something impressive but not pretentious, in the way he apologized to Rafael upon arrival at his door for fear that his clothing might not live up to Rafael’s standards, in the way he tried to subtly wipe his sweating hands on his neatly pressed pants. 

The tension seemed to lessen as the night wore on. Rafael supposed he should’ve expected nothing less from a night with Sonny. His smile was wide and charming, his cheek creased with a dimple that never seemed to soften up. He gestured broadly with his hands as he spoke, recounting some of his favorite anecdotes about his childhood, and a few passionate side tangents about his belief in the rule of law and why it meant the world to him. 

As he watched Sonny speak, it was Rafael’s turn to feel a hard, sad twist in his stomach. He’d come to realize that signing a stack of paperwork to abruptly sever their  _ legally binding contract _ might come with a sharp ache that he hadn’t expected. This had been the worst of the ideas he’d had, of the bad ones that were so few in number compared to most people he knew. This had been an idea far worse than that of getting married in the first place - at least that could be blamed on drink and disaster. 

After dinner and a few hours of conversation, Rafael’s mother yawned and stretched her arms in the universal signal that she was ready to be alone for some peace and quiet before bed. He’d seen her do it for decades, and knew that she was simply too polite to shoo them away. 

He’d been surprised at the way she’d wrapped Sonny up in a big hug when they’d moved toward the door, and even more surprised when she’d promised to email over a close as a recipe as she could write out for the huevos rancheros she’d learned to make on instinct alone. 

“Good choice, Rafi,” she whispered in his ear when she hugged him goodbye, mercifully out of Sonny’s earshot. She kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair slightly. It was simple, to the point, and completely her style.

The cab ride home was spent in a comfortable silence. Sonny cleared his throat with only a slight beat of nervousness, and he tentatively slid his hand across the seat and took hold of Rafael’s hand. Rafael sat up straighter, the warmth of Sonny’s hand a presence that was both jarring and welcome. He cleared his throat, trying to nonchalantly relax into his touch, and took it a step further by neatly slotting each of his fingers through Sonny’s. The humidity of the summer evening made a convenient excuse for the sweating of his palms. 

When they arrived in front of Rafael’s apartment, he looked over to Sonny before either of them moved a single muscle to exit the cab. 

“It’s getting late. Do you want to come up for a while?” The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about stopping himself. He wondered if the cab driver was listening and assuming that he was privy to the beginnings of a  _ first time  _ between two interested parties, rather than the cherry on top of a night built on the necessity of a deception that was beginning to get old. Still, the nerves were there. The cab driver paid them no mind. He’d clearly seen worse.

“Sure,” Sonny agreed, feigning casualness. 

They arrived upstairs, and Rafael closed the door behind the two of them. 

“That was nice,” Sonny said quietly, almost shyly. “Your mom is great. I mean it.” His voice was so sincere that it made Rafael ache. It was strange to reveal that part of himself to Sonny - where he came from, who raised him and set his roots. It made him feel strangely vulnerable in a way that he so seldom was. Rafael Barba was not a man who dealt easily in vulnerability, and even less so with partners, however  _ fake  _ they may have been. 

“She really liked you,” Rafael said. He smiled brightly at Sonny and felt glad to see him mirror it. “She told me I picked a good one.” 

“Yeah, well,” Sonny said, but didn’t tack anything else onto the sentence. “She's really great, and I’m all right.” 

“You are.”

Hesitation splashed across Sonny’s face. “Rafael, someday you’ll be able to bring someone home to your mom who’s even more  _ all right _ than I am. I hope you know that,” he said, clearly trying to seem like it was a joke. “ - because that’s really, y’know, what you deserve.” 

_ Is it though? _ Rafael thought guiltily. “It’s what we both deserve,” he agreed. “Not with each other, of course, but with somebody. That’s what everybody deserves.”

“Of course.” 

Rafael smiled even though he found himself feeling like doing the opposite. He sighed and leaned against the counter in the kitchen, debating on whether or not he ought to offer to open a bottle of wine for the two of them. Alcohol was what had gotten them into this mess, after all - sometimes the idea of a repeat performance seemed only fitting. They’d handily avoided it so far. He didn’t trust himself enough to find out what would happen otherwise.

It surprised him that Sonny had followed him into the kitchen, and it suddenly seemed that things had gone quiet and still and slow. Rafael fought the urge to shiver with the way that Sonny looked at him with a narrowed, laserlike focus. He squirmed under the close gaze. 

“What?” he snapped, though there was little venom in it, but certainly incredulous enough. 

Sonny offered a little smile with a slight underbelly of shame. “I was just - y’know, sometimes I almost catch myself thinking that this is real. Just once in a while though. Like, meeting each other’s families and coming back home where it’s just the two of us.” He winced as soon as he heard himself say it. “That sounds stupid. I’m sorry.” There was a hot blush at the apples of his cheeks. 

His admission hung overpoweringly between the two of them, and Rafael wasn’t sure if he ought to correct him or shrink away from the conversation in a helpless attempt to dismiss it. Sonny averted his eyes, looking back down at the countertop so as not to look expectant and desperate for a response. 

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Rafael said quietly, not wanting to commit to an agreement that might reveal too much of his hand. “It’s strange that we find ourselves here.” 

“Yeah. Strange,” Sonny echoed, looking back up to meet Rafael’s gaze. His eyes were so blue, and they looked so anxious that it made Rafael flinch in empathy. 

As if guided by supernatural force, Rafael stepped around the kitchen island and into Sonny’s space - up close and personal and entirely unexpected. He didn’t know what he was doing until he cupped Sonny’s cheek. They studied each other’s faces for a flickering second, and Rafael leaned in, kissing him gently on the mouth. 

Sonny’s lips were warm and dry, but he’d clearly taken steps to try to moisturize a little more often than before the wedding. Rafael childishly wondered - hoped - that maybe he had added to his routine in the hopes that this might happen. 

Before he could consider whether or not the kiss was a bad idea, Sonny was pulling him in closer by a strong hand at his waist. Rafael made a surprised noise at the assured motion, and Sonny took advantage of the parting of his lips. Rafael felt hot all over as Sonny’s tongue dipped into his mouth, sliding hotly against Rafael’s own. Sonny moaned quietly, though still louder than the noise of pleased surprise Rafael had made earlier. 

As he kissed Sonny harder, Rafael felt like a man possessed, and he fisted his hands in the hem of Sonny’s shirt. He’d worn a slightly stuffy polo in hopes of impressing Rafael’s mother - a blue shirt he’d never seen Sonny wear, one of a thousand surprises he’d added to a list every day. Sonny’s next moan was louder now, and his tongue more insistent, and he gripped Rafael’s hips in both hands. The summer heat seemed to follow them inside, and it was too much to ignore and bear now. 

Rafael broke away. “I - I think I should - ” Words seemed to have failed him for the first time in his life, and he felt small and useless. “I think I’m going to go to bed.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” Sonny blurted, clearly embarrassed both at Rafael’s attempt to escape, and his own reaction to being kissed. 

Shaking his head, Rafael turned his back. “No, no. It’s just - I think we’re just confused.” It was a cop out - the situation was bound to be confusing, but his own feelings felt far less muddled than he’d like to let on. It was humiliating. 

“Yeah,” Sonny said, but it sounded like he either didn’t believe it or simply didn’t agree. “I should probably go home.” 

Rafael felt a bewildering urge to tell him he didn’t need to leave, and even more bewilderingly, an urge to ask him insistently not to go. Rafael Barba was not a man who dealt at all in begging. He never had, and he never would. No one he ever asked to stay had done so - most notably, not his father. 

“Sonny,” he began, but knew there was little else to say that might help salvage the situation from here. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.” 

Sonny laughed, gentle yet dismissive. “Don’t be sorry. If a guy can’t kiss his husband once in a while, what’s the point?” It was a dark joke, but it made Rafael smile despite the way his head was reeling. “I’ll see you Monday?” It felt strange to know that he’d just been kissing someone he was legally married to that he was now more or less pushing out the door. 

“Certainly,” Rafael confirmed, knowing dimly that it was becoming more and more painful to  _ keep up appearances _ . 

Mercifully, Sonny was at the door, hand clutching the knob, but he paused before he turned it. He took a breath, steadying himself. “You know, I’m taking the Bar in two weeks. Maybe it’s time for us to get someone to help us draw up the papers.” Rafael was thankful he was able to keep the look of surprise off of his face. He’d certainly never expected Sonny to be the one to bring it up. 

Rafael nodded rapidly, not wanting to betray any second thoughts - this was the right decision, and the arrangement, however foolish, had been his idea in the first place. 

“Good idea,” he told Sonny, admiring the way that his voice betrayed no emotion whatsoever. “Feels like it’s been a long time coming, doesn’t it?”

“Not really,” Sonny contested. He opened the door, blessedly ready to leave. “See you at work.” 

Just like that, Sonny was gone, and now that he was, Rafael had the misfortune of being alone with the thoughts he’d been battering down all evening. He sighed, running his hands through his hair now that no one was around to see him disheveled. He sagged against the counter, slouching forward to put all of his weight onto his palms as he took a deep breath to compose himself. It took more than a little force, as he could still feel the blissful pressure of Sonny’s lips on his own. 

_ I’m fucked _ . 

-

Sonny’s nerves buzzed relentlessly as he waited in the lobby of the testing office, awash with caffeine and the adrenaline of knowing his hard work might finally pay off. It  _ had _ to, he reminded himself - there was so much riding on it: his career, his ability to save face, and most bafflingly, his  _ marriage _ . He toyed with his own ring, letting his eyes focus on its tacky rhinestones. Something so gaudy had no business being an anchor, but it allowed him a split second of relief that he couldn’t quite put his other fingers on squarely. 

There were a dozen other people in the waiting room, chattering with one another about passing licensure exams for social work and nursing and accounting, and the anxiety and excitement in the room was palpable and electric. Sonny shivered and wondered if anyone in the room’s divorce was riding on the success of their test taking skills. 

Life changed all the time, he reminded himself - that was the way of the world and had been the name of the game since he and Rafael had woken up with these  _ stupid fucking wedding rings _ on. He’d been foolish to think anything would be different.

The clock ticked forebodingly into eight o’clock, and he rose to his feet as the proctor opened the door to the exam room. He tried not to throw up. 

-

There was an insistent pounding on Sonny’s apartment door, interrupting his gushing phone call with his mother. 

“I gotta go, Ma, ” he apologized, the sun-soaked grin on his face doing nothing to fade away. “I think Rafael just got home.” 

“Oh, Sonny,” she exclaimed as though her joy had only swelled further with the mention of her son in law’s name. “He’s gotta be so proud of you. We all are, but I know it’ll probably mean the most to him.”

And maybe it did, but for all the wrong reasons. “Probably so,” he said, hoping she didn’t hear the slight undercurrent of hollowness in his tone. “I love you, Ma. I’ll see you soon.” He’d already been promised a square of tiramisu bigger than his face as a reward for his newest achievement. 

When he finally scrambled to open the door and silence the knocking, Sonny found Rafael standing outside the door. He was slightly out of breath and carrying a sizable manilla folder neatly packed with papers. They’d drafted the papers with an attorney a few days after the kiss -  _ Jesus Christ, the kiss _ . They’d deliberately chosen someone not recommended by Rita Calhoun, neither of them with the heart to talk about Jennifer Lopez’s divorce while they drew up the blueprints for their own. It was to be a neat divide: a complete severing of assets, a clean break with any remaining strings snipped quickly and efficiently behind the scenes. 

They were both satisfied, Sonny supposed. No one was giving anything up; no one was being forced to compromise. It was the best case scenario borne out of the ashes of what had been the worst case scenario back in the desert. 

“Congratulations!” Rafael exclaimed, a sharp contrast to his normal composure. He wrapped Sonny in a brief hug as he walked in the door, lingering only for a second before pulling away. “Really, Sonny. You’ve earned it and you worked hard. I remember what it felt like when I passed.” It was good to hear, to have a reminder that not all of their shared experiences had been either entirely professional or profoundly bizarre. “This is the first day of the rest of your life.” 

The painful irony was not lost on Sonny as he watched Rafael put the dense folder on the coffee table. He sank into the cushions of Sonny’s sofa. He’d never come to sit on it before, and Sonny allowed himself a fleeting second of amusement to see Rafael sitting on a hand me down couch in a slightly low rent apartment. He was clearly outside of his natural habitat, but somehow it looked  _ right _ . The sight felt terrible with a screeching onset. 

“Well, y’know, I couldn’t have done it without you,” Sonny said, earnest to his own ears, and it was achingly true. He owed Rafael a tremendous debt for allowing him to shadow him in court all those long, grueling days, to see him at work and to share insight and allow Sonny to contribute. He felt a swelling sense of gratitude that he didn’t have the words for, and for a moment he ached to put his arms around Rafael. 

“You could’ve,” Rafael said evenly, but his smile was broad. “You’re going to be a damn good lawyer, Dominick.” 

Sonny rolled his eyes. “That sounds weird when you say it.” He wrinkled his nose. “Too official.” 

“Get used to  _ official _ ,” Rafael advised. He knew it was true. Sonny nodded in acknowledgement, sitting down on the sofa next to him. 

“I ordered a pizza,” he offered, his appetite beating insistently. He hadn’t been able to eat for most of the day yesterday due to his sheer anxiety, and now it seemed to be catching up to him in spades. “It’ll be here in five,” he added, glancing down at the tracker app. He gave a small, vaguely grim smile and gestured at the stack of papers. “Dinner and a show.”

“I suppose so,” Rafael agreed.

When the pizza had arrived, Sonny returned to the sofa with the box and two beers. They were cheap domestic beers in tall aluminum cans. He supposed if Rafael was willing to enter into his domain, he could at least be diplomatic enough to drink by Sonny’s standards. To his credit, if Rafael disapproved, he offered no indication of it. Sonny popped the tab on his own and opened the folder unceremoniously. 

“We ought to just get this over with,” he said, voice smaller than he would’ve liked. He felt a surge of pain rattle through his frame, and wondered why the beginnings of the end of a sham marriage felt like a bigger loss than many of the trials and tribulations he’d faced over the years. This felt like one of the worst of these, like he was going to be left with even less than he had before. 

He remembered the kiss in Rafael’s apartment, and was still secretly shocked by the way it hadn’t even been his idea. He remembered the way that Rafael’s mouth had felt so good against his own, and so  _ right _ . It was almost enough to make him believe this whole mess hadn’t been a massive failure. 

“I think that’s probably for the best,” Rafael confirmed. He wished Rafael wasn’t so quick to agree with him, and almost considered objecting himself. It was a vain hope, he reminded himself, and picked up a pen from where he’d specifically laid it out on the coffee table. “She put X’s where we’re each supposed to sign. There’s a few spots.” 

Sonny leafed through the pages, seeing them already marked with Rafael’s signatures. He raised his eyebrows. “I guess I wasn’t expecting you to sign them already.” His voice was nearly sad.

A wry smile crept across Rafael’s face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes in the way it had when he had talked about Sonny passing the exam. “I didn’t know this was a special occasion,” he teased, but Sonny didn’t laugh along with him this time. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not funny,” he muttered. 

Sonny gave a noncommittal shrug and turned his attention back to the empty spaces for his own signature. He signed them quickly, each a messy indecipherable scrawl that he’d never been able to make into something neat and dignified -  _ what a surprise _ . He signed so many times his hand grew tired and sore. Before he knew it, every last X had its required signature with it, and he sat back, laying the pen down. 

“So that’s that,” he said with finality. 

“Yep.” 

He picked up his opened beer and gestured to Rafael with it. Rafael raised his own. 

“To a beautiful divorce,” Rafael proclaimed, but there was little in his voice that made things feel as joyful as Sonny supposed they ought to in honor of a job well done. The freedom should’ve been intoxicating.. They tapped their beer cans together, a toast that didn’t carry any romanticism with it. It seemed fitting to toast their divorce with convenience store beer in a sharp contrast to how he could only assume they’d toasted with champagne in the offending little chapel where this whole debacle had come to fruition. 

“The best of the best,” Sonny agreed, his heart sinking as Rafael took his ring off and laid it on top of the now-closed folder. Sonny pulled his own off, forcing himself not to hesitate. He looked down at his hand and studied the summer tan line where his ring had been. “The pizza’s going to get cold.”

Suddenly, the last thing he wanted to do was eat, but he forced himself to open the box. 

-

The papers should have been burning a hole in Rafael’s pocket, which didn’t make sense when he found himself still letting them sit idly on the countertop in his kitchen for a few more days. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t delivered them to  _ their  _ attorney yet, and instead they sat there, sneering at him every morning while he drank his coffee.

It was a Saturday night when Rita stopped by with a bottle of wine and a legal brief she’d been scowling over for a frustrating week. He’d arrived home late from work, fully intending on stuffing them in the bottom of his desk drawer. He supposed he could at least spend the rest of the weekend mustering up the desire to finally drop the originals off. Perhaps he could chalk it up to the annoyance of having to deliver them uptown in person rather than just scan them and email the document off - it should be so easy, he thought irritably.

As luck - or his recent lack thereof - would have it, Rita arrived her customary fifteen minutes early, catching him off guard. His heart sank, knowing she’d be irritated if he made her wait to come inside. He sighed. It was inevitable anyway, he thought, knowing just as well that he wouldn’t be able to keep a secret from Rita. 

He had never been able to hide anything from her, a familiarity borne of years of mutual competition and respect. Rita had known when Donovan Rawlings had stood him up for a first date in graduate school. Rita had known when he’d underperformed on an exam in their first semester in undergrad. Rita had known every minute failure in his life and had the discretion not to share it or hold it against him. There was something to be said for decades of true friendship. 

Rita narrowed her eyes when she saw the folder after only a few minutes of loitering in his kitchen.

“What are  _ those _ still doing here?” she asked, taking pains not to wrinkle her nose. 

“Well, you know, some of us have busy weeks and can’t make it uptown to deliver their own documents right away,” he said cooly, aiming for detachment. 

She gave him a suspicious look as she made quick work of the corkscrew in a way that looked simple. “Is that it,” she remarked, a rhetorical question. 

“Yes.” 

“Sure,” she said, pouring them each a glass of the rich red wine. It was oppressively hot outside - too hot for red wine, but Rita Calhoun was not one to compromise on things that brought her pleasure. He envied her. She leaned against the counter and pushed the glass toward him, and he watched the way it sloshed gently inside as though to say,  _ you’ll probably need me for this _ . “Dare I ask if there’s some hesitation there?”

“You may dare,” he groaned, rubbing at his temple before having a drink. 

“And dare I ask if you’ll hate me if I say I’m not surprised?”

“You can dare ask that too, I guess.” It felt good to say something honest for what felt like the first time in months. “I don’t know, Rita. It’s complicated.”

Rita sipped her wine, patting delicately at her lips when she’d finished. Her lipstick was matte and there to stay. “Unfortunately for people like us, emotions usually are.” The frankness of her wisdom never failed to both annoy and comfort him. “Walk me through it?”

It was as though a floodgate had opened, and he prepared himself for the torrent. “I just didn’t expect it to feel good.” She looked at him with a well drawn eyebrow raised in question, and he knew he’d have no choice but to elaborate. “There are times where it doesn’t feel like a lie,” he said slowly. “There are times where I forget what a drunken idiot I am.”

“Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten.” 

“Shut up,” he countered good naturedly, immediately more at ease. “He - a couple of weeks ago, I kissed him.” 

“And?”

Rafael felt like a teenage boy confessing his first crush to an older sister with worlds more experience. “I kissed him when no one was around, and I didn’t hate it.” 

“Well, I should hope not.” Rita smiled, clearly pleased to be let in on such a secret. She pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar, neatly crossing her legs. She looked comfortable, dressed in jeans and a nice blouse with her hair pulled back. It was nice to see her in civilian clothes when they were having a conversation like this, at least. “How did he react?”

“He kissed me back.” Rafael paused. “I mean, we kissed each other back. There was definitely interest there. It felt like it was real, that’s all.” He took another drink of his wine, larger than necessary. “And then I guess I startled myself and pulled back and acted like an absolute fucking imbecile, and he left.” A blushed crept into his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed as an adult man. “I don’t know, Rita. I got in over my head. I don’t  _ get _ in over my head.” 

Rita shrugged, but it was enough of an acknowledgement for both of them. “And now you’re holding back on dropping off divorce papers that  _ you _ agreed to sign now. Why? What exactly is your endgame here?”

He let the question hang in the air for the simple fact that he wasn’t exactly sure, and less sure still now that the question had been asked. Rafael looked to the ceiling as though searching for guidance that he unfortunately knew wouldn’t come. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “This was supposed to be what we both wanted. This is what makes sense for both of us.” 

“Maybe,” she mused, and he knew she was dying to look through the divorce papers just to see what kind of legal gymnastics were involved out of sheer nosiness. 

“That’s all you have to say?” he huffed in frustration. 

“Does Carisi know you still have these?” she asked. 

“What? Christ, no. No. Absolutely not. And I’ll take them on Monday, and he’ll never  _ have _ to know.” The idea was comforting - that he’d snap out of this, set it right, put it down and walk away without looking back again. “I can fix this.”

Rita rolled her eyes. “Have you thought about asking him if he  _ wants _ you to fix it? Have you even thought about asking him what he thinks about both of you fixing this?” 

He threw his hands up in frustration. “Why would I do that?”

She regarded him with a withering stare. “Listen, Rafael. You and I both know that I don’t have a goddamn leg to stand on when I tell you that you shouldn’t be so eager to throw something like this away with both hands.” At least that was true. He’d seen Rita dump countless suitors over the pettiest of inconveniences and pet peeves over the years - one of her many self-admitted faults. “I’d never indulge a romantic comedy cliché enough to tell you to date your husband or something trite like that, but still.” 

“It sounds like that’s exactly what you’re suggesting I do.” 

Rita shook her head as though for once unsure what exactly she was suggesting. “All I’m saying is, you should do as I say and not as I do, that’s all.” She slapped her knees and rose back to her feet. “Now, I was also promised cheesecake, was I not?”

The conversation mercifully dropped for the moment, but he knew it was wishful thinking to hope it had been tabled for good. He’d indulged himself in a slice and a half of cheesecake and two and a half glasses of wine as a reward to himself for charitably putting his head together with Rita on her legal brief. It was some kind of white collar money laundering case that held little interest and no passion for him from the stance of the prosecutor - comforting, vaguely mindless work, the kind of thing he wouldn’t resent helping a friend with on a Saturday night. 

“That’s enough of that,” Rita finally said, closing the folder and sliding it into her designed handbag. “I’m bored.” She poured herself another glass of wine, and he was glad he’d thought to stash a second bottle in the cabinet. “Let’s talk more about you and Mr. Barba-Carisi.” 

Rafael groaned. “Must we?”

Rita stabbed off another bite of cheesecake from where she’d abandoned it earlier and left it to slowly warm while she was distracted. 

“We must,” she confirmed with mock solemnity. She reached back down into her bag, fishing for her phone. “I think I need to show you something.” He watched her, mystified, as she began scrolling through her phone - back days and weeks and  _ months _ in their text thread. “And here I was hoping this mess could stay buried.” There was a wry, clandestine smile on her face, and Rafael knew nothing good could come from that sort of smile. She laid the phone on the table and slid it across to him. 

It was a thumbnail of a video, grainy and dark on the screen with a shape he couldn’t quite make out just by looking at it. She looked pointedly at the phone and then up at him. 

“What is this?” he asked cautiously as though waiting for it to explode if he touched it. 

“For Christ’s sake - just watch it, Rafael.” 

He knew her well enough that it was futile to resist, and he gave her an annoyed look before picking up the phone and jabbing the screen out of sheer obligation. 

When the video jerked to life, it was clearly apparent that the unrecognizable shape on the screen was Sonny, reclined on his elbows on the hotel bed. Rafael felt his face flush again for the second time tonight. 

“And here is my gorgeous groom.” His own voice was unmistakable, despite being slightly roughed by alcohol and exhaustion. 

“Shut up,” Sonny said in the video, laughing with a broad, embarrassed smile. “Turn that off.” 

“My gorgeous groom who I  _ like _ so much,” Rafael said, deliberately disobeying the directive. “Yes everyone, I  _ like _ him so much I decided we ought to get married.” 

Twenty five seconds in and he was already embarrassed. Rafael raised his eyebrows, surprised at just how damning a video could be even in the length of your average network television commercial. 

“Oh, now you  _ like  _ me,” Sonny mumbled good naturedly, his sleepy smile growing even deeper in the arrangement of pixels on the screen. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” The footage jumbled, and Rafael could tell by watching it that at the time he had descended on the bed next to him. “I like that you  _ like me _ .” The camera flipped as Rafael switched to self-portrait camera mode, and he winced in half-horror as he watched himself press a chaste kiss to the corner of Sonny’s mouth on screen. 

“I guess now I have to  _ like _ you forever,” Screen Rafael mused thoughtfully, kissing Screen Sonny again in a way that looked equally thoughtful to his words. Real Rafael watched their eyes meet, fighting a shiver he might scoff at as overly romantic if he weren’t so lost in what he was watching. “If you play your cards right.” 

Screen Sonny closed his eyes, clearly wanting the moment not to end. “I’ll play my cards right, Barba. I’ll keep playing them right as long as you want to.” Despite himself, Real Rafael chuckled, only caught off guard a little bit. “I mean it.” 

“I’m going to send this to Rita, so don’t be a mushy asshole. I have proof that’ll hold up in court.” His voice was a drunken slur on the screen, but there was genuine affection there that didn’t come from the bottom of a midnight bottle. On the video, Sonny slouched backward onto the bed, but his smile never faltered. Sonny’s lips appeared to part, and Rafael instead placed a kiss in the center of his forehead. “My sleeping beauty needs his beauty rest.” 

“Shut up, you dick,” Screen Sonny mumbled, tired but not unhappy. “You know you love a good bad decision.” 

“Maybe.” In the video, Rafael carded his fingers through Sonny’s hair before clumsily turning the camera back to himself. “See? Documented for posterity.” His voice was dramatic and overemphasized as though onstage, but it would be silly now to chalk it up to performance. “Motherfucker - how do I turn this off?” The video came to a screeching halt, perhaps for the best.

For a moment, Rafael had forgotten where he was, caught up in the whirlwind of seeing himself completely happy and relaxed in a way he supposed he seldom was. Still, he sat with the creeping warmth that had caught him off guard. He’d always extolled the virtuous sentiment that drunken words didn’t necessarily echo sober thoughts, but now he found it preposterous to argue with the beatific look on his face when he’d videoed himself, and the one that invaded his face here in the space of his living room. 

Rita held up her hands in self-defense but allowed the silence to linger for a moment. 

  
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” she warned. “I was worried it was a sex tape.”

Rafael scoffed. “I wouldn’t subject you to that.”

“Maybe this is worse,” Rita countered, still picking at her cheesecake. She remained silent for a moment, clearly collecting her thoughts. “Maybe it isn’t. Who knows.” She shrugged dismissively, but he’d never seen a dismissive gesture look so carefully intended. “If you ask me later, I’ll deny it, but I think you should talk to him.” She fiddled with her phone for a moment, and his own phone lit up with an AirDrop notification. “For safekeeping,” she supplied helpfully. “Or maybe you’ve done the right thing. Who the fuck knows?” 

He could appreciate the sentiment. 

“I’ve never known you not to be direct,” he said pointedly. 

Rita offered what was now an unhelpful shrug. “I can admit when I’m out of my depth.” It was true, if not rare. “Talk to him. We all know how final a well-written legal document can be, and as much as I hate to admit it,  _ your husband _ does too.”

It was a heavy statement to sit with, and Rafael offered a single, glum nod. 

“Drunken words are sober thoughts,” Rita added. 

Rafael raised his own phone in her direction. “Let me get that again on video,” he groused, remembering too many times when she’d tried to bring him undone with a statement in the opposite. “I can think of a judge or two who’d like to see Rita Calhoun admit to implicit bias.” Still, despite his better judgment, he saved the video before impulsively clicking on Sonny’s name in his contact list.  _ Detective Carisi _ , his ever-formal label read, and before he could stop himself, he sent the video before it could register with him that he might regret it. 

Several agonizing minutes ticked by as Rita talked at length, sermonizing on the fact that Harvard still sent her begging requests to donate to an endowment fund for the university. He wasn’t listening. It was clear she didn’t care. His heart leapt when he saw the small shadow of ellipses indicating the receiving party was typing and likely erasing messages for several minutes. 

_ We need to talk _ . Rafael’s eyebrows raised dramatically in a manner he could only describe as cartoonish. Dread settled in his stomach, and he wondered just what kind of trouble he’d just invited.

-

Sunday evening arrived too quickly, and Sonny wished he hadn’t texted Rafael to invite him to a discussion. He’d received the text halfway through a game of dominoes with Bella. She had accepted his easy, lame excuse that he’d swallowed too many bubbles when he choked on his soda. He’d hastily suggested they meet at his apartment the next day, hoping that at least being in his natural habitat might ease some of the worry. Sadly, he had no such luck.

The buzzer rang at promptly seven o’clock, and he’d nearly jumped out of his skin. When Rafael had alerted him of his presence, he’d rung him up without pretense. Now, each knock on the door sounded like a ringing bell announcing a medieval execution. Sonny became abruptly aware that he was still wearing his ring. It had felt unusual not to wear it, even if it had only been on his hand for a few months. He made a huffing sound of frustration, throwing open his junk drawer and tossing it unceremoniously inside before slamming it back shut.

When Rafael entered his apartment, Sonny immediately recognized the folder of divorce papers Rafael held tucked under his arm as if feigning nonchalance. 

“Why do you have those?” Sonny blurted, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“I just thought - ” Rafael began, clearly helpless and floundering for words. “I hadn’t had time to drop them off.” 

Sonny regarded him skeptically. “Seems like the kind of thing you’d  _ make _ time to drop off.” 

“Well, I guess I should’ve given them to you to drop off then,” he snapped in an annoyance that Sonny recognized as anxiety, even if it did come from the least anxious person he’d ever known. “Can we just talk like normal people?” 

“Normal people don’t get drunk and get married in Vegas when they’re supposed to be working,” Sonny pointed out, realizing suddenly he’d lost all sense of what was considered  _ normal  _ anymore. “But I’m willing to give it a try if it’ll shed some light on the fact that you’re bringing all this stuff to my place on a Sunday after they’re supposed to be being processed, like, a week ago.” He paused, his heart pounding as he wondered what the purpose of all of this was. He tried to gather his thoughts. “What is this?” 

Rafael remained silent, eyes downcast and clearly ashamed. 

“Be honest with me. Please?” Sonny heard the earnestness in his voice and realized too late that he ought to clutch at the last straws of self preservation. “If there’s one goddamn thing we can do in this mess, it needs to be that we can be honest with each other.” He paused, voice growing smaller. “I’m so tired of being dishonest, Rafael.”

As Rafael stepped further into the cramped confines of Sonny’s apartment, he dropped the folder of papers haphazardly on the scratched surface of the coffee table. 

“You want me to be honest?” Rafael asked, voice rising in volume. “Maybe that’s what we should’ve been doing all along.” 

“I don’t think I know what you mean.” 

Rafael threw up his hands in frustration. “I don’t either.” He sank down to sit on the couch, bracing his temple on his fingertips while looking exasperated beyond recognition. He looked up, eyes meeting Sonny’s finally. “I’ve hated faking. Believe me, I have.” He paused. “It’s just - there are times where I don’t hate it. I don’t hate you, and I guess I don’t hate being married to you.” 

Sonny let out a surprised, sputtered noise. “How romantic, Barba.” A flash of hurt crossed Rafael’s face, and Sonny’s heart sank. “I’m not sure I understand where this is going.” He folded his arms as though to protect a vulnerable part of himself, suddenly wishing nothing more than for this night not to have happened. He’d spent months bracing himself for the divorce and the ensuing chaos of picking up the pieces. 

“I don’t know why I kept them. I don’t know. Is that what you want me to say?” 

“I want you to say more than that!” Sonny exclaimed, all composure thrown to the wayside in the blink of a blue eye. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve had to sit with the idea that you can’t stand me and the fact that I follow you around trying to act like I’m just curious and professional, and then I wake up married to you? Do you know how embarrassing that is?” His nerves were rapidly fraying apart. “And then  _ you _ kiss  _ me _ one time when it’s just us and you act like you can’t stand it? What happened to talking about what we both deserve?” 

Rafael sat, apparently numb but soaking it in. 

“Nothing makes sense anymore,” he said, resignation apparent. 

“I’m not stupid,” Sonny spat, clearly gone past the point of no return. “Do me the decency and don’t act like I am.” 

Rafael’s head snapped up from where it had hung practically between his knees, and there was a heated look in his eyes. He rose to his feet, recklessly invading Sonny’s space. To his credit, Sonny didn’t back away, and didn’t back away still when Rafael fisted his hand in the hair at the back of Sonny’s head and pulled him in for a fierce kiss. 

Letting out a grunt of surprise, Sonny allowed himself to be kissed hard. Their lips had certainly met before, but there was no tentativeness left in this particular instance. Rafael’s lips and teeth and tongue were everywhere, clumsy and insistent. Instead of balking away, Rafael groaned into his mouth with a novel sense of abandon that made Sonny’s blood immediately run hotter. 

“What do you want me to say?” Rafael asked, breaking away but not letting go of where he gripped Sonny’s waist with an alarming and exciting display of strength. “Tell me what you want me to say, Carisi, and I’ll say it.” 

The question flirted dangerously with the promise of breaking his heart. “I want you to say this isn’t just a mistake we made,” he panted, overcome and all too willing to hear any sentiment as long as it was definitive. “I want you to say  _ I’m  _ not just some mistake you made and wanted to undo.” He let out a stammering laugh of disbelief. “I want you to say that there were times where it wasn’t a lie, and -” His heart was racing and couldn’t be tamed in this moment. “ - and I want you to say that maybe if we made a mistake, it was worth making. Is that what  _ you _ want to hear?” 

Sonny’s head hung low, chin almost connected to the space between his collarbones. He tried to gather himself before looking up to meet Rafael’s eyes but knowing he’d probably failed miserably and would be shooed away and abandoned. Perhaps it was what he deserved. 

“I want to hear that I’m not the type of idiot who does things on a whim without thinking about what it means.” Rafael’s voice was steady now, and Sonny wondered where the almost supernatural certainty had come from. “I want to hear that I’m with someone I should be with, whether I know it or not.” He could feel Rafael’s hands shaking where they held the back hem of his t-shirt. “I want to hear that you think drunken words are sober thoughts.” 

Sonny rolled his eyes. “You’ve spent too many years hanging out with Rita Calhoun,” he said, bordering on spiteful but losing the necessary force of the edge. 

Rafael let out a shaky laugh. “Now that you’re right about.” 

They took a few moments, savoring the feeling of being in each other’s orbits. To his credit, Sonny didn’t allow their gazes to break. 

“I wanted you for a long time. Does that make me the asshole here?” he asked, almost as though in pain. 

“Does there have to be an asshole here?” Rafael asked, voice gone quiet. “It’s not exactly a contest.”

“Maybe not,” Sonny admitted. “Or maybe if it was, we’d both win.”

They sat in an amenable silence for a beat, amplified by the presence of Rafael’s hands on Sonny’s hips, pulling him in so their chests were almost touching. The heat of his body was so warm that for a moment Sonny worried he wouldn’t be able to catch his breath. Then, the silence was interrupted by the way that Sonny leaned in, kissing him more slowly and gently this time. He carded his fingers lightly through Rafael’s hair with a tenderness that surprised both of them. 

Rafael was breathing more heavily now, and Sonny took what he assumed was a sense of foolish pride at the idea that’d brought him to this point, on the verge of coming apart because of his own actions alone. Sonny kissed him, licking patiently into his mouth when he was granted access. 

“My husband,” he murmured, clearly amused by the situation for once rather than bowled over by sheer resentment toward Sonny. Maybe he hadn’t felt that way at all. Sonny could hope. He was backing Sonny back over toward the sofa, and Sonny’s heart had leapt into his throat with the first instance of  _ delightful  _ anxiety of his life. “Meet my husband, Dominick Carisi, Junior.” 

“I told you, it sounds weird when you say it,” Sonny protested, despite the fact that the formality admittedly excited him. 

And Rafael was suddenly spread out on the sofa, pulling Sonny slowly down on top of him. “I ought to call him Sonny - everybody does.” He blessedly stopped talking and teasing enough to pull Sonny back into another heated kiss that felt everywhere at once. 

Sonny hummed contentedly both at the statement and the feel of Rafael underneath him, and he sheepishly felt himself rocking against Rafael’s hips as a complement to the way their mouths slid insistently against each other. He groaned openly as he felt Rafael arch his hips upward to meet him. The loudness of the sudden noise made him flush with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, breaking away for a moment that already felt too long at its onset. “If you don’t want to do anything, you don’t have to. I mean,  _ we  _ don’t have to,” he corrected himself quickly. 

Rafael looked up, studying his face. “I think we waited long enough, don’t you?” he asked. There was a hopefulness in his tone that felt almost painfully earnest, one that Sonny never dreamed he would feel directed toward him. He laid his hands on Sonny’s hips again, this time grinding up to meet him. Sonny could feel the shape of Rafael through his pants where he’d begun to harden, and felt his own pulse beat harder in response. His mouth went slack, and he took a desperate gasp for air before Rafael captured his lips again. 

“Oh, god,” he panted, feeling a sense of reality as Rafael began to fumble with his belt buckle. “I, um,” he began, trying to gather his thoughts. “It’s been a while since I’ve - ” He trailed off in shame. 

“Me too,” Rafael agreed, setting Sonny’s nerves as much at ease as could be expected. “We’ll just take it slow.” 

Their kisses slowed and deepened, though they posed a counterpoint to the insistent way that Rafael pushed down Sonny’s jeans and his own pants in an effort to rub their bare flesh against each other. Sonny could feel a trembling in his limbs that spelled the dangerous, exciting loss of his composure. Thankfully, Rafael seemed similarly taken apart by the feel of Sonny’s skin and the slick warmth of his mouth. 

“Sonny,” he whispered almost reverently, and Sonny felt a sense of wonder at the idea that he would ever hear his name gasped out like this below him from the man he’d admired from afar since the first time he’d seen him command a courtroom or wear a three piece suit. Perhaps all it had taken was a little bit - or a lot, to be fair - of liquid courage to bring them to a point that now felt meant to be. “You feel so good.” 

“So do you.” And it was true - perhaps the truest thing he’d ever said. 

Time seemed to accelerate at a breakneck pace, and with every movement of their bodies together, Sonny savored the small, unraveled noises of desperation Rafael made. He’d never expected Rafael to be the one who broke apart first, but now that he’d seen it, he wanted things no other way. 

“ _ Please _ ,” Rafael moaned, gone shaky. “Please, Sonny.”

“Whatever you want, you can have it,” Sonny promised, indelicately smashing their mouths together in a way that might make both of them laugh with they’d had any semblance of clear heads, but now was not the time. “I’ll give you whatever you want.” Making such a promise aloud - one he’d made in his head more times than he had the confidence to admit - felt terrifying and thrilling at once. 

It was over soon enough - too soon, Sonny might admit, but only because if it were up to the both of them, it would’ve lasted all evening and even well into the next day, and the day after that. Rafael came with a sudden, bitten cry, and Sonny was not far behind. 

“Oh, fuck,” he exhaled lowly, voice gone ragged in the aftermath. He slouched downward, their hips and chests still pressed against one another, even though he could see the fussy expression on Rafael’s face at the idea of worsening the mess between their bodies. “I - that was - I guess we finally consummated our marriage, huh?” 

Rafael made a small noise of agreement, clearly still discombobulated from the force of his orgasm. It felt good to have Rafael warm and cuddled underneath him, like somehow this had been meant to happen all along but had taken a ridiculous set of circumstances to come to fruition. Sonny rested his head against his shoulder, catching his breath 

“What do we do with those now?” Rafael asked when he’d regained enough of his composure. They both turned their heads to the side to look at the taunting folder of documents. 

Sonny paused, gathering himself and hoping he was about to give the right answer. 

“Keep them.” Rafael closed his eyes and nodded in agreement, taking Sonny’s hand in his own and laying both of them in the center of his chest. “You don’t need to drop them off now.” Sonny knew he was shaking now, feeling as though he’d been handed a prize he wasn’t sure what to do with. 

Rafael tilted his head back, a contented smile on his face despite the way his eyelids had gone closed with sudden exhaustion. He allowed Sonny to brush a chaste, tender kiss to his lips. 

“I’m burning those damn swim trunks,” he mused, gone bleary with sleep. “First thing tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, as you may be able to tell, this fic got me carried away a bit. 
> 
> rellkelltn87's amazing prompts were as follows:  
> 1: Barba and Carisi, who are not (yet) a couple, are accidentally but legally bindingly married  
> 2: Barba has an unusual middle name.  
> 3: On the summer theme: Carisi has an unusual bathing suit.  
> I liked all three of them so much that I ended up trying to find a way to incorporate them all. I truly had so much fun writing this, so thank you so much for the amazing prompts which inspired me so much! I truly hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
> 
> The title of this story is taken by 'Archie, Marry Me' by Alvvays. I thought it was a perfect fit for two pragmatic attorneys taking the plunge and must have listened to it least a dozen times while I wrote this story. 
> 
> As always, if you're interested, you can find me on Twitter at @LBSubmarine. Hope everyone is having a safe and fun (or, as fun as can be expected these days) summer - I know the exchange was exactly what I needed right now!


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